


when you smile at me like that

by allegrolines



Series: 05:20, sunrise [1]
Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Falling In Love, First Date, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Pre-Slash, very mild angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-07-16 06:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7255369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allegrolines/pseuds/allegrolines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Out of the the whole place, Howon’s favorite spot is the reading room on the third floor. Airy and full of light, it’s meant to be a corner for games and stories, an island of calm in the middle of the frantic pace of the hospital; it also gives the children a space to play and laugh, a respite from the check ups and blood tests and, in the worst cases, the fear and what-ifs. A few adults stick out among the kids, most of them volunteers that come regularly to keep the youngest patients from getting bored and restless. Howon often stops by during the last ten minutes of his lunch break, to check on the children and chat with the ladies that keep an eye on them. He does that today, too; however, instead of the familiar voice of Choi Kyungmin, soft and low while she reads tale upon tale to a circle of awed girls and boys—</p><p>Someone is singing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [InfiniteRarepairFicathon2016](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/InfiniteRarepairFicathon2016) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Woohyun comes to read/sing to the kids in Howon's hospital and Howon thinks Woohyun is totally cute and very talented and he really really wants to talk to him.
> 
> \---
> 
> 1\. Howon is meant to be at the end of his internship, but I've kept most of the medical-related details kind of vague since medicine isn't my area of expertise. 
> 
> 2\. Nothing graphic or tragic happens in this fic, but there are a few very mild allusions to the less happy reality of hospital life, as well as a couple of mentions of blood. 
> 
> All in all, I've tried to keep this light and fluffy, since that's what the prompt asked for. Thanks for reading!

Working the morning shift means getting up way before the sun rises and leaving the apartment when the sky is still the twilight-blue of early dawn. Howon lifts his head to admire how the color fades to soft yellow as the day rolls in, pedaling harder while he rides his bike uphill. During his first year of high school he went on a few dates with a girl who was interested in photography; she used to talk about the blue hour over and over, with a sort of intense fixation he couldn’t quite understand. Howon smiles to himself—he is able to appreciate the beauty of it now, even though he had never imagined he would get to see it so often, back when going to medical school was nothing but a faraway dream.

The pediatric wing of the hospital feels brighter and warmer than the other buildings, even though it’s built and furnished in the same clean, sparse way as the rest of the complex. Maybe it’s because a whole side of it faces south. Maybe the reason is the grove of cherry trees growing just outside of its windows, which blossom in pale pink every spring. Maybe it’s the kids themselves, who stay bright and brave no matter what. Either way, Howon has always felt proud of being a part of it, another little cog that helps everything run smoothly day after day. He loves the thrum of his job, the rhythm of it; but, more than anything else, he loves seeing the children smile, knowing that he’s doing something valuable for them—that he’s making a difference in their lives.

A couple of nurses just finishing the night rounds wave at him; Howon greets them back, pinning his ID in place while he walks past them. The clock ticks half past six. He gets to the common room, knocks on the doorframe to announce his arrival. The air smells of peroxide, freshly pressed bed sheets, a hint of coffee.

“Ready to start?” his supervisor asks, looking at him over a neat pile of medical records. 

Howon nods. “I’m ready.”

 

\---

 

Out of the the whole place, Howon’s favorite spot is the reading room on the third floor. Airy and full of light, it’s meant to be a corner for games and stories, an island of calm in the middle of the frantic pace of the hospital; it also gives the children a space to play and laugh, a respite from the check ups and blood tests and, in the worst cases, the fear and what-ifs. A few adults stick out among the kids, most of them volunteers that come regularly to keep the youngest patients from getting bored and restless. Howon often stops by during the last ten minutes of his lunch break, to check on the children and chat with the ladies that keep an eye on them. He does that today, too; however, instead of the familiar voice of Choi Kyungmin, soft and low while she reads tale upon tale to a circle of awed girls and boys—

Someone is singing.

Howon stands on the threshold, caught there with one foot in and the other out. A man in the far-left corner claps along the song, swaying from side to side. He’s sitting with his back to the windows, so Howon can’t make out his face clearly, backlit as it is, but he sounds happy, and he guides the children easily throughout the melody. 

The man raises to his feet, holds out his hand for the closest kid to take it—a shy boy with one arm in a cast that Howon recognizes from previous visits—and twirls him around, making sure to be careful and gentle. The sunlight catches on his profile mid-spin, and the sight of it squeezes the breath out of Howon’s lungs. 

It’s the most cliche situation he’s ever found himself in, almost like someone had taken a scene right out of a movie and unfolded it in front of him—a handsome stranger, with a sweet grin on his wide mouth; the bright green of the trees outside, ruffled by a soft breeze. The man lifts his head then, like he’s just realized he’s being watched, and looks towards the door. Flustered beyond words, Howon barely manages to bow briskly at him before turning on his heel and walking away.

Over the next few days, he learns two things. First, the new volunteer’s name is Nam Woohyun. Second, all the kids seem to adore him.

Howon can’t help but feel annoyed at himself for the way he froze when he met Woohyun. Not only he failed to introduce himself and greet Woohyun properly, but his reaction went against everything he’s learnt since he started his internship. After all, Howon has to deal with unexpected situations as part of his job, and he’s usually good at thinking on his feet—or at least, he reflects later, that’s what he believed.

He hasn’t even dared to consider how he must have looked from Woohyun’s point of view that day, because the mere thought of it is too embarrassing to bear. A part of him wishes he could get a second chance to leave a better impression, somehow—in a parallel universe, Howon was prepared for a surprise encounter with Nam Woohyun; in the one he lives in, not so much.

Embarrassed or not, Howon doesn’t stop visiting the reading room whenever he has a moment to spare. He may know Woohyun’s name already, thanks to one of his coworkers and a handful of the children, but they haven’t moved past simple _hellos_ and _good mornings_ yet. Talking to Woohyun should be easy enough—the fact that he’s volunteering at the hospital means that he has enough in common with Howon to at least start a conversation—but, even so, they end up getting caught in a replay of their first meeting every single time. It’s like they missed their cue at the beginning, weeks ago, and now they can’t find the right timing again.

It doesn’t help that Woohyun keeps to himself when he’s off the clock. As much as he enjoys chasing the kids around, making up little songs for them on the spot—as loud and cheerful as he can be—Woohyun is quieter after his shifts, and he doesn’t like drawing extra attention on himself once he’s done his job. 

(The first time Howon sees him like that, he bumps into Woohyun during a coffee break, finds him texting by one of the vending machines, head down and earbuds on. Woohyun is focused on whatever he’s typing, squinting at the screen, but his expression softens into a small smile when he raises his head and sees Howon. There’s recognition in his eyes, and he steps aside to clear the way, even though he wasn’t blocking Howon’s path to the snacks to begin with.

The fluttery feeling in Howon’s belly is one that reminds him of his first summer crush, of a time when the excitement was brand new and terrifying, when kissing someone tasted like red popsicles and sun-warm strawberries. He selects a couple of cereal bars and a little bag of candied almonds, sneaking glances at Woohyun. The stillness suits him, despite being new to Howon. It’s not that Woohyun’s friendliness seems fake because of it—one side of him complements the other, in Howon’s mind. Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t have time to stop and talk—his break is almost over by now—but he waves goodbye at Woohyun before he leaves to continue his rounds.

Woohyun’s smile widens until it lights up his whole face. Howon carries the memory of it with him for the rest of the day.)

 

\---

 

“So the boys told Woohyunie-oppa he wouldn’t be able to make a song about slugs, but then he did! And it rhymed and everything!” 

It’s an early Tuesday morning, and Chae Narae waves her arms around while she speaks, trying to emphasize her point. She whirls them too wide, in the careless way of a thirteen-year-old girl who isn’t fully aware of her own gangly limbs yet. “And because Donggunie and Jaejoong were the ones who bet he couldn’t, they had to help Woohyunie-oppa read a story for the little ones, and do some of the characters’ voices and everything. I had told them not to do it, you know?” she says primly. “Woohyunie-oppa can sing about _anything_ —He even made a song about robots for Yoo Sooah yesterday, and robots are much more difficult to get right than just _bugs_.”

“Ah—Of course,” Howon replies, amused by the vehement lilt of her words. “I see.” He unhooks his stethoscope from around his neck. “Come on, I need you to breathe deep through your mouth now, nice and slow—That’s it, just keep breathing like that for a little longer, we’re almost done.”

“It sounds like he keeps all of you pretty entertained,” Howon adds after they finish, choosing his words carefully. Narae doesn’t react to the strained casualness of his voice, too busy lacing her sneakers—or too oblivious to notice his lapse, more likely. Her mother is in the office next door, talking with doctor Park Hyunwoo, but Narae doesn’t seem in a hurry to leave. “He sounds like a good guy,” Howon tries again. 

“He’s fine, I guess,” Narae mumbles, ducking her head, like she wasn’t raving about Woohyun just a moment ago. Howon doesn’t miss the way her ears go red.

It’s a bit startling, how much he can relate to a teenage girl.

Howon clears his throat, then chooses to change the subject for both of their sakes. “You’re still taking dance lessons?” he asks.

Narae’s mouth twists down, which isn’t the reaction he was hoping for. “Yeah, but—” She stops, glances at the door, stares down at her lap. “My dad says I should quit soon and focus on my studies. He says I won’t have time for it once I start going to high school, anyway.”

“And your mother—?

“Mom says it’s fine,” she says. She seems to deflate even more, hunching her shoulders forward like she wants curl up into a ball. “But I don’t want them to argue because of me.”

Howon bites the inside of his cheek. He wishes he could tell her that everything will work out, somehow. “We should get going, Narae-yah,” he says instead, as kindly as he can. “Let’s not keep your mother waiting.”

She nods, sighing, and stands up, her long hair partially shadowing her face. Howon loves his job, but he hates the feeling of helplessness that gets lodged in his chest at times like this. It sits wrong with him, not being able to do anything to comfort someone he is meant to help, even when he knows it’s not his place to meddle with a patient’s personal life. His seniors at the hospital joke about him being too hot-headed and wanting to do too much— _You’re still so young, Howon-ssi; you’ll have to slow down at some point. You wouldn’t want to get burned out too soon, would you?_ —but anything would be better than having to be polite and professional while Narae tries to look happy for her mother. 

Howon sees them off, displeasure gnawing at the pit of his stomach, tongue glued to the roof of his mouth with all the things he wants to say but isn’t meant to. Hyunwoo-sunbaenim claps his back afterwards, hard enough to sting.

“Cheer up, kid,” he says, squeezing Howon’s shoulder briefly with too-blunt fingers. “The world isn’t ending yet, Howon-ssi. The day can only get better from now on.”

Howon doesn’t reply, although he thanks Hyunwoo-sunbaenim for looking after him. It’s still early into his shift, and there’s a lot left to do before he can leave. 

He hopes things start to look up soon.

 

\---

 

Everything only gets worse.

Nothing truly serious happens, but there’s a constant drip of petty inconveniences that pile up as the hours tick away, each new issue enough of an annoyance to keep Howon running around, unable to catch his breath until he finally clocks off. By the time he leaves the beginning of a headache has settled at the base of his skull, and he just wants to get back home, have a quick meal, and pass out for as long as possible.

He’s pushing his bike downhill—and that’s a small mercy, at the very least—when he sees Woohyun waiting at the bus stop. Howon almost doesn’t recognize him at first, tired as he is, but even when he does he can barely wrap his brain around the idea of Woohyun being _there_ , haloed by the golden light of the sunset. It feels surreal—just another picture-perfect scene that sends a wave of warmth through Howon, but today that lovely feeling is muted by a low drone of exhaustion. Howon goes on walking, hoping to be able to pass by unnoticed—a childish urge, maybe, but one he can’t quite shake off.

Because the universe is set on mocking him, Woohyun turns around, spots him right away, and says, “Looks like you’ve had a rough day.”

Howon just manages to stop himself from snapping at him, the words tangling in his throat like spiked wire. The part of him that isn’t clouded with irritation knows Woohyun isn’t being sarcastic—he might not go through the hardest bits of working at the hospital, he might not be under the same stress and pressure Howon is, but the time he spends volunteering has a positive impact on the kids—and, in consequence, on Howon’s job—and he obviously cares about them. In any case, he isn’t responsible for Howon’s sour mood, and doesn’t deserve to pay for it.

“I’ve had better days, yeah,” he replies, his tone politely bland.

“Can I get you a drink, perhaps?” Woohyun asks before Howon can leave. He looks so tentative, maybe even a little bit hopeful—

But that’s just Howon’s wistful thinking, making him see his own feelings reflected on Woohyun’s face. Woohyun is just being nice to him, and Howon doesn’t want their first real conversation to happen while he’s tired and everything is grating on his nerves. “How about a rain check?” he says. “Maybe another time?”

Woohyun considers him for a long moment, a tiny frown between his brows. “Well, then,” he says. “Have a good evening, doctor Lee.”

“How—?”

“I’ve seen you around,” Woohyun replies, tipping up his chin. The corners of his mouth tremble, like he’s holding back a smile.

“Oh, right,” Howon says. “I mean—I’ve seen you too.”

Woohyun chuckles. “That’s good to know.” Then, before Howon can react, he adds, “My bus is here, so. I’ll keep seeing you around, I hope?”

“Yeah,” Howon says faintly.

The sun is gone by the time the bus pulls away, leaving Howon behind. He feels dazed, unsure of whether the last ten minutes really happened or not. He’s worn out and his head still hurts, but a sort of lightness has bloomed in his chest. It wells up like fresh, clean water, floods him down to the tips of his toes. He throws one leg over his bike, adjusts his grip on the handlebars, and lets his own weight carry him forward.

 

\---

 

On Wednesday, the bumps of the previous day get smoothed out under layer upon layer of routine, until they are just a shadow at the back of Howon’s mind. He’s still thinking about Narae’s future, but at least he can compartmentalize that worry, making it manageable enough to keep it from bleeding into everything else.

There’s something else—the lightness he felt after his half-talk with Woohyun hasn’t melted away overnight. He’s been wondering if Woohyun will act in a different way, or if he’ll say something about it the next time they meet. What he isn’t expecting is for the kids to stand up at once to face him, the next time he stops by the reading room, and to greet him formally with a ninety-degree bow like he’s some sort of school principal. Howon stares at them, taken aback.

Woohyun’s laughter rings over the chorus of high, excited voices, and—of course it was his idea, Howon realizes, finding him immediately among the children. He has a line of glitter on one cheek and a guitar on his lap, and he’s wearing the most impressive and mismatched amount of plastic jewelry Howon’s ever seen on someone—shiny rings and bracelets, necklaces full of charms, a pair of bubblegum-pink earrings studded with rhinestones. He’s covering his grin with a hand, not that it makes that much of a difference. His whole body is shaking with mirth, red-faced, crinkly-eyed, his free arm curled around his middle like he has to physically hold himself together. Howon wants to tell Woohyun to cut down the teasing—but also wants to tell him to never stop, if he’s going to keep looking like that every time he laughs.

The conviction that this is what— _who_ —he wants sinks down under Howon’s skin. 

Thursday starts off with an overcast sky, heavy with humidity in a way that anticipates a hot, suffocating day. The weather isn’t enough to spoil Howon’s high spirits, buoyed by a tingling feeling of anticipation that wakes him up fifteen minutes before his alarm clock goes off in the morning. The buzz of the early morning news keeps him company while he eats breakfast and gets dressed.

His shirt is stuck to his back by the time Howon rolls his bike past the gates of the employees’ parking lot. He goes to the locker room to get changed, drawing sleepy glances from some of the new interns, and then his shift begins, just as any other day.

It’s hours later when Howon overhears the tail-end of a conversation between the head nurse and one of the senior residents.

“—was only a scare, honestly,” the nurse, Jung Sohyun, is saying. 

“Must have been a shock, though. All that blood—”

“Blood?” Howon feels his face heat up when both women turn towards him. “Ah, sorry, Sohyun-sunbaenim, Miyoung-sunbaenim—Has there been an emergency?”

“It’s nothing to worry about, Howon-ssi. A kid felt a bit faint earlier and got a nosebleed. Nothing serious, fortunately.”

“It’s the weather,” Lee Miyoung points out, her usually kind face set into a moue of distaste. “This heat is just terrible.”

Howon hums in agreement; the hospital has already seen a few cases of heat stroke this summer. “Did it happen to one of the inpatients?”

“I don’t think so, but I can’t tell you for sure. I got the details second hand too, after all.”

“Thanks, sunbaenim,” Howon says. “I guess it’s fine, as long as the boy is alright.”

Sohyun-sunbaenim nods. “As I was telling to Miyoung-ah, it was only a scare.”

Once the initial relief of knowing no one was hurt fades away, Howon focuses back on the task at hand and doesn’t think much of the incident. Things like that have happened before, and will certainly happen again—the best thing he can do about that chance is to be aware of it, and be prepared to act as quickly as possible in case it occurs while he’s on duty. _Always expect the unexpected_ , his supervisor’s voice echoes in his mind.

It’s past noon when Howon gets a break after spending most of the morning in the second floor, working with one of the teams at the neonatal unit. He stops by a restroom before heading down to the cafeteria, splashes some cool water on his face after he’s done rinsing his hands. Howon rolls his neck, trying to ease some of the tension pulling tight across his shoulders. He’s about to leave when a soft noise freezes his steps. 

Someone is crying just outside of the door.

Goosebumps cover Howon’s arms, and the lightness that has driven him for hours curdles in his stomach. The restroom is out of the way, tucked away in a quiet corner, and whoever is in the hallway must be a father or a father-to-be, given where they are. 

Howon hesitates. There’s nothing he can do other than respect the man’s pain and privacy; he doesn’t want to intrude in a moment like that, but he also really needs to go. He takes a deep breath, walks outside. The man is sitting on a bench a bit to his left, hunched so far forward his hair brushes his knees. His hands are pressed against his forehead. 

It’s Woohyun.

Alarm spikes through Howon. The discordance of the scene rattles him, drying out his mouth; he had steeled himself for an encounter with a grief-stricken father, but this—

He doesn’t know how to deal with this.

“Woohyun-ah,” he says, because he can’t walk away when Woohyun looks like his heart is breaking. The informal treatment slips off his tongue—an accident, which he hopes Woohyun will forgive him for, if it comes to that.

Woohyun raises his head, blinks at Howon once, twice. “Howon-ah?”

And then, before Howon can reply, Woohyun’s face changes in a split second, shuttering into a polite, pleasant expression. If Howon hadn’t seen him crying not even a minute ago, if it weren’t for the hint of dampness still clinging to his eyelashes, Woohyun would look almost normal—a little bit tired, maybe, but nowhere near devastated.

“Howon-ssi,” Woohyun repeats, correcting himself. Then, turning the formality up a notch, widening the distance between them, he adds: “I mean—Doctor Lee.” His voice is steady, his smile small but flawless. “Can I do anything for you?” He could go on with his day just like this, Howon realizes, and no one would know something wasn’t quite right.

“Woohyun-ah,” he insists. Unlike Woohyun, the name wavers in his mouth. “What happened? Are you okay? Was it one of the kids?”

For a moment, Woohyun’s smile—small and flawless and _wrong_ —stays in place. The first tremble of his bottom lip is like a leaf falling: quiet, unassuming. When he finally crumbles he does it silently, his carefully constructed facade of calm falling to pieces under the weight of his misery. Tears roll down his cheeks. “Howon-ah,” he manages to say. It sounds like he’s begging, though Howon doesn’t know what for. “ _Howonie_.”

Howon closes the last step that separates them, wraps an arm around Woohyun, helps him get to his feet. “Come on,” he says. “C’mon, Woohyunie, let’s go.”

He pulls Woohyun towards the elevator, matching Woohyun’s shaky steps with his. An echo of laughter catches them while they are getting on it—a woman’s voice, welcoming a new life with true delight. And then the doors close and there’s nothing but the pressure of Woohyun’s fingers, holding on to Howon’s forearm like he’s the only real thing in the middle of a nightmare.

 

\---

 

“Here,” Howon says, placing a paper cup on the table, “this is for you.”

Woohyun curls his hands around it, brings it close to inhale the faint lemony smell of the tea. His eyes are dry at last, if still puffy and red. He takes a small sip, and his mouth twists immediately afterwards. “This is a bit—” he starts.

“It’s awful, I’m sorry.” Howon’s own swallow makes him wince; the tea manages to be both bitter and weak, somehow. “The coffee is much better, but—”

“I don’t think coffee would be the best for me right now,” Woohyun says quietly. He drinks a bit more, grimacing again, then bursts into giggles. “You’ve bought me really terrible tea.”

“I guess I have.” Howon peers cautiously at him. “Are you—?”

“Ah.” Woohyun’s grin disappears. He ducks his head. “Sorry you had to see that. Not my finest moment, right?”

“What happened?” 

“There was—” Woohyun’s voice breaks. “There was an accident.” He tugs at the soft fabric of his shirt. There’s a faint dark stain on one side of it, a smudge of something that looks like old rust.

_A kid felt a bit faint earlier and got a nosebleed. Nothing serious, fortunately._

_Must have been a shock, though. All that blood—_

“It was one of your kids,” Howon says. “The one with the nosebleed—it happened in the reading room.” It’s not a question; he already knows he’s right.

Woohyun pauses, staring at some point to the left of Howon’s shoulder. “Lee Minho. That’s who it was,” he finally says. “He went so pale—it was all so fast. One moment he was bouncing around, and the next thing I knew he was sitting on the floor, blood dripping down his chin. He just looked so _puzzled_ ,” Woohyun adds, a desperate edge creeping underneath his words, “like he couldn’t understand what was going on. The children panicked. I called a nurse. I tried to keep everyone calm while we waited, but I—I just—”

“It wasn’t your fault, Woohyunie—Hey, look at me.” Woohyun does; his face is open, scared. Howon stares back at him. “You did what you had to do—you acted fast, you were there for Minho and the rest of the kids. _It wasn’t your fault_.”

“I know he’s fine, I know it was nothing,” Woohyun insists. “But it did _not_ look like nothing. You must think I’m just some kind of naive idiot, getting so upset over—”

“But I don’t,” Howon says, talking over him. “I don’t,” he repeats, slow and deliberate. “I know how it feels like, when something goes wrong and you don’t know why. Also, how could you have known that it wasn’t serious when it happened?” His voice sounds too loud, his cheeks feel too hot. “I don’t think you’re too naive—I know you try to do your best for the kids, though. After all—” he smiles, hoping it looks warm, reassuring— “I’ve seen you around, remember?”

“Yeah,” Woohyun replies at last, “I guess you have.”

Neither of them talk for a while after that. Howon finishes his tea, just so he has something to do while the silence stretches between them; Woohyun doesn’t touch his again. This isn’t how Howon had imagined their first conversation to go. He thinks of Woohyun under the sunset, not even forty-eight hours ago, about the way he had grinned then—that’s how it should have been, ideally; not in a hospital cafeteria, not when Woohyun still looks shaken, the tilt of his mouth as weak and watery as the tea. Howon frowns at his empty cup. It was meant to be a gesture of comfort, but he doubts it has helped at all.

And then, suddenly, inexplicably, Woohyun starts chuckling. 

“This isn’t how I thought it would happen,” he says, a little breathless. “Talking to you, I mean.”

Howon wonders if he’s heard wrong—but Woohyun looks flushed and shy, toying with one of the napkins he had used to wipe his tears away, and the emotion on his face is too raw for it to be a fluke.

“Oh,” Howon replies, too dumbfounded for words. 

“You kept stopping by to check on the children,” Woohyun continues, like he has too much momentum to stop speaking, now that he’s finally begun. “And they had so much to say about you—how gentle and patient you were, how well you listened to them. It was always Howonie-oppa this, Howonie-hyung that—and then the nurses would scold them for being too familiar with you, and the kids would stutter and call you doctor Lee. Doctor Lee-oppa. Lee Howon-hyung-nim.” He chuckles again. “You were so busy, and I didn’t want to bother you, but. I hoped we would be able to talk, sometime.”

“You—” It all sounds so familiar, Woohyun’s story mirroring Howon’s almost perfectly; the same tale told from the other side. Howon wonders if Woohyun also thought of their first meeting as a missed chance, or whether it felt different from his point of view. “I’m not too busy now,” he rushes to say.

Woohyun tilts his head, smiling—a real smile this time, big and crooked and oh so right. “Isn’t your break about to end, doctor Lee?” 

“My—?” It is almost time for him to go back to work, Howon realizes. “Ah,” he says.

“ _So_ busy.” Woohyun laughs. “Such a gentleman, too,” he adds, grabbing his cup and finishing it in one long gulp. His nose scrunches up; Howon shouldn’t find that as endearing as he does. “But we could do without the terrible tea next time, Howon-ah.”

 _Next time_. Howon thinks about waiting for all the right circumstances to come together at the right moment, and how life hardly ever works like that.

“Let’s meet later,” he says. He has spent weeks wishing he were brave enough to approach Woohyun; he isn’t going to back down now. “You also have a few hours left on your shift, right? Let’s have dinner, after we’re both done.”

Woohyun beams. An image pops up in Howon’s mind—the sun in the morning, chasing the deep blue of the sky away—and he barely keeps himself from groaning aloud at his own cheesiness. His palms are over-warm and sweaty, and it’s been years since the last time he fell for someone like this.

“Do you have a restaurant in mind already?” Woohyun asks, and it takes a moment for Howon to realize that he’s saying _yes_.

“Not really,” he admits. “But I’ll think of something.”

“I know you will.” Woohyun looks away, checking the digital clock on the wall. “I have to go now.”

Howon sighs. “Me too.”

The elevator ride upstairs is easy and relaxed, completely different from the one before. Howon keeps glancing at Woohyun, and finds him looking back every time.

“Will you be fine, Howon-ah?” Woohyun asks after the doors open and they get off on the third floor. “I’m sorry I took up all your break.”

Howon shakes his head. “That’s what the vending machines are for,” he says. “And don’t forget we have our own common room, with a decent coffee machine and everything.”

“Enjoy your secret coffee stash, then.”

“Hey,” Howon says before Woohyun can leave. “Take it easy now. You did a good job this morning.”

“Thank you. I—It’s good to hear that.” This time, his fingers on Howon’s wrist are warm, their weight barely there. “I’ll see you later, Howon-ah.”

Woohyun’s steps are light—he doesn’t skip down the hallway, but it’s a close thing.

“Woohyunie,” Howon calls. Woohyun turns around, just a few meters away. “I’ll see you later,” he says, and then, while he still feels brave, “It’s a date.”

Woohyun beams again. “I’ll buy you that drink!” he replies, walking backwards so he can keep his eyes on Howon. “Don’t make me wait!”

Howon waves at him, joy bubbling up in his throat. The lightness is back, as well as the fluttery sensation in his belly. Everything could end up being a disaster but— 

He can’t stop thinking about Woohyun sitting in a room full of children, laughing until he couldn’t hold himself upright. Woohyun raising his head and turning around, his face lighting up whenever he saw Howon was there too. 

Woohyun, always with a smile on his lips for him.

—Whatever happens next, Howon has the feeling it will be good.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Magda, who posted the original prompt and then wanted to know what happened next.

Woohyun spends the first half of the walk towards Howon’s chosen restaurant talking animatedly while Howon nods and pushes his bike along, keeping pace with him. He falls quiet one block later, though, and by the time Howon is holding the door of the little sushi place open for him, Woohyun has began to fidget, and the light in his eyes seems dimmer than before.

It takes a moment of confusion for Howon to realize that Woohyun is nervous.

A waiter shows them to one of the tables at the back of the room. Woohyun chooses a chair after a quick glance at Howon, and ducks his head when Howon just grins at him and sits on the other. Howon watches him stare at the dark wood of the furniture, the menus written in both Korean and Japanese that hang from the walls, the tall stools by the counter, topped with brightly patterned cushions. The tense line of Woohyun’s shoulders softens bit by bit; he’s smiling again when he looks back at Howon, tentative but genuine. “You come here a lot?” he asks.

“Often enough,” Howon replies. “It might not be the fanciest place in the city, but it’s close to both the hospital and my apartment, and the food is very good. One of my sunbaes recommended it when I started my internship.”

“It’s good,” Woohyun says, and Howon doesn’t miss the gratitude in his voice. “It’s just the kind of place I like.”

 _It’s fine_ , Howon wants to tell him, _I’m nervous too_. He taps his foot against Woohyun’s ankle under the table, leaving it there for a brief moment. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“I could probably eat a whole tuna,” Woohyun confesses with a laugh, pressing back into Howon’s calf. 

The restaurant is busy but not crowded, and it smells like warm rice and dashi stock. When the same waiter comes back to take their order, Woohyun insists on paying for a round of beers. They ask for sushi bowls—eel for Woohyun, salmon for Howon—and also get a few small dishes to share while they wait for their mains—goma-ae and tsukemono to go with the drinks, plus a serving of the house’s potato salad. Howon takes advantage of Woohyun talking to the waiter to stare at him, as subtly as he can.

He looks calm, or at least as calm as someone who’s had such an emotional rollercoaster of a day can be. 

The waiter leaves after filling their glasses with cold water. “Do you think we’ll have enough food?” Woohyun asks; his cheeks turn pink when he catches Howon’s eyes on him. 

It’s such a trivial question, but Howon can see past it now—because Woohyun will talk to distract himself from being nervous until even that stops working, and Howon can help him feel more comfortable by keeping the conversation running. “The servings are pretty generous,” he replies. “I think we’ll be fine. Let's do this—if you are still hungry by the end of the meal, the dessert will be on me.”

Woohyun’s eyes crinkle at the corner when he smiles. “I’ll hold you to that.” He looks around the restaurant once again. “This is a family-owned place, isn’t it?”

Howon nods. “That’s one of the reasons why I like it,” he tells Woohyun. “It makes me feel at home, even after the busiest days.”

“Even after the really harsh ones?” Woohyun asks. 

Howon thinks about it for a moment. “Even then,” he says truthfully.

Their drinks and snacks arrive before Woohyun can reply. He takes a thin slice of pickled cucumber between his chopsticks. “It’s really good,” he says after swallowing.

“Wait until you try everything else.”

Woohyun loves the rest of dishes, just as Howon had been hoping, and seems to really enjoy his main in particular. “I hadn’t eaten eel in a long while,” he mentions after his first bite; he doesn’t say anything else, but smiles in the kind of soft, fond way that makes the back of Howon’s neck feel hot. “How’s yours?”

“Really good,” Howon says. _Good_ doesn’t really do justice to how well the combination of slightly warm rice, salmon slices, and salty salmon roe works, but Woohyun laughs, covering his mouth with his hand and looking like he understands. A moment goes by, then Howon asks, “Why did you decide to start volunteering?” The question has been running through his head ever since their earlier conversation. “You care a lot about the children.”

“Who has told you that?” Woohyun replies jokingly, glancing away.

“I can see that myself,” Howon says. 

Woohyun looks startled for a moment, as if it hadn’t occurred to him that other people might notice that he’s been doing as much as he can to keep the kids happy. “Well, I moved to this area recently,” he finally says. “I got a job as a teacher in the neighborhood, but I’m not starting until the beginning of the next term, and I didn’t really want to be doing nothing until then, so. Here I am.”

“Here you are,” Howon echoes. 

Woohyun blushes. “I like working with kids,” he says simply. “And I like that there aren’t any academic burdens for them at the hospital.” His mouth twists. “Not that the situation is ideal there, either.”

“You handle yourself really well with them.”

“That’s not a small compliment coming from you, doctor Lee.”

“You don’t have to call me—”

Woohyun chuckles. “I know, Howon-ah.” 

Howon has the sudden realization that now that he’s learnt how hope looks on Woohyun’s face he doesn’t want to stop seeing it. “So you’re a school teacher,” he says; then, after Woohyun nods, he asks, “You’ve been volunteering with the outpatients mostly, right?”

“Outpatients, day patients, and also some of the kids who have hospitalized relatives at the moment,” Woohyun confirms. “I may have offered to help with more, the day the head nurse was showing me around, but I was told that all the spots were already covered. And also to not get ahead of myself,” he adds ruefully. 

“It can be hard,” Howon says. “But you already know that.”

“I’m sure it’s not as hard as _your_ job,” Woohyun tells him; Howon wants to protest, but Woohyun speaks again, “Why pediatrics?” 

“I also like working with kids.” Howon smiles. “That’s basically it. And—well. They are our future, after all.”

Instead of teasing him for being cheesy, Woohyun’s eyes light up right away. “Yeah,” he says, “exactly.”

Howon looks down at his half-eaten bowl. He can tell that something has clicked between them, a sort of mutual understanding. It had happened before, after they had left the cafeteria, but it feels steadier now, born from choice rather than from the desperation of the moment. The phantom grip of Woohyun’s hand still burns on Howon’s forearm, as fresh as the memory of Woohyun hiding his tears behind a polite face, but that tension is gone. What’s left is the kind of mood and setting that Howon had imagined whenever he hoped they would get to know each other—a conversation over good food, cocooned in the pleasant murmur of the restaurant, away from the bustle of the hospital and the aftershocks of this morning’s incident. The grin tugs harder at the corners of his lips.

“Do you want more radish?” Woohyun asks, his chopsticks hovering over the last pieces of pickled vegetables.

“Go ahead,” Howon tells him. “I’ll finish the spinach.” He pauses; Woohyun has almost finished eating his food, and there’s only about a finger of beer left in his glass. “You like the place, then?” he asks, because everything is still new—Woohyun is still new to him, but so is Howon to Woohyun—and he wants to _know_.

Woohyun looks at him for a moment. “I do.” His face is open, yet it’s Howon who feels completely transparent under his stare. “Thank you, Howon-ah.”

“Anytime,” Howon replies, swallowing against the emotion knotted in his chest. _It’s a date_ , he had said, hours ago; he wants to bring that up again, but doesn’t know how.

Thankfully, Woohyun seems to have all the words that he is missing. “We did have enough food after all,” he says lightly. “But I’m always in the mood for ice cream, with this weather.” His smile is mischievous and lovely. “You promised me dessert—gave me your word, even.”

Howon feels the last bits of awkwardness lingering between them fade away, as if swept by a breeze. “I’m a man of my word,” he agrees.

Woohyun’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “That’s what I thought.”

 

\---

 

It turns out that Woohyun’s idea of dessert is going to a convenience store to get Melona.

“Weren’t you talking about that homey feeling earlier, Howon-ah?” he says, after Howon asks him about it. They are walking through a residential neighborhood, down a narrow street framed by rows of low houses with neat, little gardens. “There’s something about that flavor—” When Howon turns towards him, the street lamps overhead throw Woohyun’s features into sharp relief, casting shadows over the bow of his lips when he purses them. “That’s what my dad used to buy for my brother and I on his and my mom’s days off,” he continues. “Sometimes he’d drive the whole family to Wolmido—to spend the day at the beach. My mom would pack our lunches at home, but once we got to the coast we’d stop at any random store, and they’d get us—”

“—Melona,” Howon finishes for him.

They turn right at the next corner. “You took me somewhere that was meaningful to you. That’s why—”

“Woohyunie.”

“—that’s why I want to get Melona.”

He’s slowed down, falling a few paces behind. Howon watches him cross the distance between them one careful step after another. Woohyun reaches for his hand, hesitates, then curls his fingers around Howon’s elbow instead.

“Howon-ah,” he whispers.

He’s so close, up into Howon’s space just like he had been in the elevator, after Howon had found him crying. The crown of a huge tree blocks most of the light, covering them in a blanket of darkness. Woohyun’s breaths are steady, but he’s trembling ever so slightly. Howon’s hands clench on the handlebars of his bike, so tightly it hurts. “Yeah,” he whispers back.

Woohyun leans in and kisses him. 

His mouth parts with a sigh, bottom lip sliding over Howon’s, slick and soft. He doesn’t linger, pressing in once before pulling back, a ticklish brush of skin against the corner of Howon’s mouth. The world stays still for a few long seconds. Howon can still taste soy sauce and vinegar on his own tongue. He blinks his eyes open.

“You—” he starts. 

“There’s a store just a few blocks ahead,” Woohyun says, moving his hand away and stepping back. He’s looking down, too, like the patch of pavement at their feet is the most fascinating thing on earth.

“Okay,” Howon says. His fingers are stiff and sore when he finally loosens his grip. “Let’s go.”

 

\---

 

“Thank you for your purchase,” the cashier says. “Have a good evening.”

“Good evening to you, too,” Howon replies, taking the plastic bag that the guy is holding out for him with a small bow of his head. He turns around, walks the short distance to the door, and steps into the tepid air of the night. 

Woohyun is leaning on Howon’s bike, head bowed low while he checks his phone. He raises his face, the glow of the screen spilling over his chin, and smiles as soon as he spots Howon—the exact same gesture he had done a month ago or so, standing by the vending machine at the hospital. “We could go that way, towards that tall building over there,” he says, looking in that direction. “I’d like to find somewhere to sit down and stop for a bit.” Doubt creeps into his voice when Howon doesn't answer. “Unless you don’t have any more time left to spare?” 

Howon shakes his head. “It’s fine,” he finally says. “We should go before our dessert melts.”

Woohyun takes the bag from him; their fingers touch, in such an obviously deliberate way that Howon shivers. Truth to be told, he’s distracted—or rather, too aware of Woohyun, walking one step at his left, of the stretch of his throat and the curve of his arms. Howon follows him into the maze of alleyways; they have to stop and move aside once, to make space for a car going in the opposite direction. 

They find a small square between two apartment blocks; it has a few benches surrounded by flower beds, and a tiny playground with a set of swings and a seesaw. Howon props his bike against the fence and goes to sit with Woohyun, who gives him one of the ice creams. He has already unwrapped his own, and the poor lighting of the plaza does nothing to hide the red of his mouth, nor the wet smear that the Melona leaves across his lips, which—

“You kissed me,” Howon says.

Woohyun freezes slightly. “As I said before,” he says carefully, turning towards Howon, “I’ve noticed you. For a while, now.”

“Okay. That’s—” Howon stutters. “Me too.”

Woohyun seems to consider this for a moment. “School starts in two weeks,” he says.

Howon nods, focusing on finishing his ice cream, slurping its last half-melted piece before it can fall off the stick. “You’ll be busy,” he says when he’s done.

“Well. Yeah.”

“You’ll stop volunteering.” 

“I can’t be in two different places at once, Howon-ah.”

“Maybe you should learn how to do that.”

“Maybe,” Woohyun chuckles, even though he doesn’t sound particularly happy. “I don’t want to stop seeing you,” he adds, and there’s something achy and vulnerable in his voice. 

Howon inhales sharply. “You don’t have to,” he answers.

He moves first this time, turning to Woohyun and bending forward. Their second kiss tastes like melon, sweet and cold. Howon cups Woohyun’s face into his hands, tilts his head so he has a better angle to lick into his mouth and press open-mouthed kisses on his lips, over and over. He makes sure to go slowly, following the curl of Woohyun’s tongue with his own until their mouths go soft and warm again, and the flavor of the ice cream melts away. 

“You don’t have to stop, Woohyunie,” he repeats when he leans back. It comes out rough and low, wrecked by the intensity of the kiss. His thumb caresses Woohyun’s cheekbone.

“Oh,” Woohyun breathes.

“I don’t want to stop seeing you either,” Howon tells him.

“Okay,” Woohyun sighs; then again, “Okay.”

He is smiling when they finally get up, and keeps grinning all the way back to the main street. “I have a train to catch,” he says then. “I should get going. Probably.”

“I’ll walk you to the station,” Howon says.

For a moment it looks like Woohyun is going to refuse, but— “Thank you,” he replies.

They spend the ten minutes to Woohyun’s stop talking about the kids they both work with, and gently poking fun at each other, testing how far they can tease. However, it’s over all too soon; the late evening crowd pushes them apart, though Woohyun sidesteps the thick of it skillfully so they can get to the subway exit together.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Howon says.

“So eager,” Woohyun jokes, before adding, “We should get lunch.”

“Who’s eager now?”

“I don’t care,” Woohyun says. “Do you?”

“Give me your number and I’ll text you when I start my break. We can meet at the cafeteria.”

“Okay,” Woohyun agrees, extending his hand to take Howon’s phone. “I’m up for meeting during your break, but no cafeteria food, please.” He taps on the screen; he must call his own number too, because Howon can hear a short buzz coming from Woohyun’s backpack. “No more terrible tea, Howon-ah.”

“Where do you want to go?”

Woohyun beams at him. “Don’t worry about that.”

“Okay.” Howon briefly wonders if he isn’t putting too much trust in Woohyun, then figures he can deal with it later, if things don’t go well. Somehow, he has the feeling it won’t be necessary. “See you tomorrow, Woohyunie.”

“Ride safely,” Woohyun says, “and good night.”

For the second time in a short number of hours, Howon waves goodbye at Woohyun and watches him go. It’s only afterwards, staring down at Woohyun’s number on his contact list with what must be the silliest smile on his face, that he realizes how late it already is, considering he’s almost a forty-minute ride away from his apartment. And yet—

Now Howon has a way to reach Woohyun whenever he wants to, and the memory of two kisses tucked away in his chest. He feels like someone has lit up sparklers under his skin.

Everything is good.

Howon takes the kick-stand off, gets on the bike, and wades between the people before joining the flow of traffic up the street. His phone vibrates in the front pocket of his shorts, pressed against his thigh—short pulses, probably text notifications. He grins again, pushes himself to pedal faster, and heads back home.

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from Clazziquai Project's "Sweety" ( _You dont know how I feel when you smile at me like that_ ).
> 
> (I'm so weak for these two.)


End file.
